


You Left Us Far Behind (so we all discard our souls and blaze through your skies)

by Saral_Hylor



Category: The Losers (Comic)
Genre: Fix it of sorts, M/M, Mentions of temporary character death, Post Comics, Prompt Fill, Rated for swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:55:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saral_Hylor/pseuds/Saral_Hylor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill for - any - any - 'I hate you right now but don't you dare leave'</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Left Us Far Behind (so we all discard our souls and blaze through your skies)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jujitsuelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujitsuelf/gifts).



> Prompt by jujitsuelf on fic_promptly
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to Cougars_catnip and quandong_crumble for the read throughs.

He never expected to see him again. Not outside of dreams and nightmares and those fucking memories that just wouldn’t leave him alone. All the hurt, from all those months, boiled up to the top, and it hurt so much it made him angry, because the bastard was supposed to be dead. Because he’d let him believe that he was dead all that time. Mostly because he’d walked out of there and lived, and thought that he’d left his best friend behind to die.

There should have been words, all the words that he whispered into the dark of night, all the things that he’d wished he could have said but had never thought to. Because he always thought he’d have time later. That there would have been an after everything else. That they’d get out of there and go home, and then he could have said all the things he wanted to.  

But there hadn’t been an after, not for both of them, just for him, and it’d been too long and too lonely, and he was done with being sad, he was just so pissed off. Who did Cougar think he was, just showing up like that? He almost wanted to slam the door in his face, because he couldn’t really be real, could he? But his knees weren’t working, and as soon as he loosened his grip on the doorhandle, he seemed to end up on the floor, in the front doorway of Jess’ house, and he was so fucking mad.

“Motherfucker!” The word clawed its way out of his mouth, and it didn’t escape him how broken it sounded, or the fact that it had been one of the last things that he’d said to Cougar in that pipe room. “You bastard, you’re supposed to be dead.”

Cougar looked like he was going to say something, but didn’t make a sound, his expression apologetic as he took a step closer.

He wanted to reach out, to grab hold of Cougar and never let go, but he wanted to push him away too, because everything hurt, and he was so angry at everything, had been angry at everything the whole time, since the sheik wasn’t there, since his best friend had blown himself up. Only he hadn’t. He was there, standing on Jess’ front porch like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t been dead for over a year. Like he and Pooch hadn’t just got back from mourning him on the one year anniversary. And he wanted to ask how he’d managed it, how he was alive, and why it had taken him so long to find him again, but he just couldn’t, not yet.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t touch me. You’re dead, you bastard, you’re supposed to be dead. I fucking hate you!” He could see the hurt on Cougar’s face, but he couldn’t stop. There was too much emotion, too much grief, and it just wouldn’t leave him alone. “I hate you. Motherfucker. I was coming back for you. I was going to save you, and you blew the place up. You died. You let me believe you were dead.”

He could hear just how wrecked he sounded, and he hated him, he really did, for not being there for the past year, for letting him mourn him, for letting Jess and Beth mourn him. For hurting them all. For not waiting. But Cougar was right there, and he’d slip away again, out of his grasp if he didn’t stop him. He was reaching for him, arms out, fingers stretched right out until his could just graze the fabric of Cougar’s shirt, and he was real. Really real, right there, solid and alive, and not some phantom created by his mind to torment him. He sort of stumbled forwards, on his knees, and finally he could grab hold of that shirt, and pull Cougar close to him.

The smell of leather, sweat and gun oil engulfed him, up his nose as he pressed his face against Cougar’s stomach, arms around him, hands clinging desperately to the back of his shirt. He was real. Alive, warm, solid, breathing. God, he wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t, not when he loved him so much. Wanted to be mad at him, but Cougar was there, gripping his shoulder, stroking him hear, and whispering “ _lo siento_ ” over and over again.

He knew he was crying, could feel the breath catching in his lungs and refusing to go anywhere. “You bastard. You fucking bastard. I hate you. Don’t ever do that again. Don’t you ever just leave me again. I was coming back.”

The hand tightened in his hair, and he could feel Cougar’s body shaking too, and maybe he wasn’t the only one crying, wasn’t the only one hurting and hating. “I didn’t know how to live without you. Please don’t leave me.”

When Cougar finally spoke, his voice was rough, and everything he remembered it being. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, _parlanchín._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I should finally write a fix it, of sorts anyway, since it fixes only one real issue, and fails to explain anything. Yeah, kinda failed on that front. But I thought I'd focus on all the emotion more than the actual plot specifics.


End file.
